


Recipe for Happiness

by still_intrepid



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Fluff, Getting Together, Lithuania's Outsourcing, M/M, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 07:40:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13266810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_intrepid/pseuds/still_intrepid
Summary: Toris had the misfortune to graduate not only into a recession, but into a life-changing accident of the rabid fur and fangs kind.  A few years on, he’s struggling to make ends meet in London without falling into the criminal underworld, when a friend introduces him to a surprising new opportunity, working for – and living with – wannabe paranormal investigator Alfred F. Jones.





	Recipe for Happiness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RosieTheRo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosieTheRo/gifts).



> Secret santa gift for RosieTheRo ^_^

Toris liked Arthur well enough.  Very much, in fact; and it was good to have a friend in London.  But what he liked most of all was that Arthur was a good enough friend to ask how things were going but not good enough, or annoying enough, to try and do anything about it.  When they met for a drink, Toris unburdened himself, flippant, bitter and absolutely truthful, about how well his job search was _not_ going, safe in the knowledge that Arthur would make humming noises and let him talk and not make things awkward by trying to help.

-

It was to Toris’ considerable surprise therefore, when Arthur phoned him and announced there was _someone he’d like him to meet_.

“I’m really not looking to date anyone right now,” he’d said.

“It’s not a _date_.”

Did casual friends arrange their casual friend’s casual hook-ups now?

“Or to – or to meet anyone really!”

“It’s for a _job_ , you pillock.”

He hung up.

Toris stared at his phone.

He hadn’t even said… anything.  What job, who, when?!

Two minutes later he got a text from Arthur.

> 
>     soz mate didnt give deets etc

It came as a surprise to people that someone who owned as many antique books as Arthur did texted like a 2000s teenager.          

> 
>     security job. might not b permanent but its someth rite? this guy I kno thinks hes a paranormal investigator.  wot do u think? cd meet 2moro if u like.

-

Toris was a chef.  At least, he was an unemployed chef.  Someday he wanted to run his own catering business, which would be preferable to restaurant work for _several_ reasons, chief among them his sense of independence and…

The fact that nowhere he’d worked so far had been tolerant of the two to four really _non negotiable_ werewolf days (and, more importantly, nights) per month.

Oh yes.  Toris was also a werewolf.

He’d had the bad luck to graduate into not only a recession but a life-changing… accident, of the rabid fur and fangs kind, back in his home country of Lithuania. 

He still hadn’t told his parents. 

Two of his non-London friends knew, a Pole and an Estonian he’d run into interrailing that fateful summer, because he hadn’t known how to cope or how to hide his condition and things had happened.  Eduard, the Estonian self-proclaimed genius hacker, was the one who’d put him in touch with that part of the dark net that could give him any sort of useful advice and resources.  That had been a couple years ago.  Nowadays, there was also an app for that.

It seemed there was a deal of complexity in how the werewolf state manifested in its affected persons.  Toris discovered through experiment he could turn wholesale into a large rangy Alsatian-type creature on any day of the month if he really put his mind to it, but that night times around full moon were mandatory.  He’d only once managed to change back into a human during these nights, in the youth hostel, frantic and terrified, hiding under a duvet and shaking from head to toe.  He’d had a few seconds during which he had been able to explain … _something_ … to Feliks and Eduard in his dorm before he transformed back into a wolf, and the effort had left him shattered for the whole of the next day.

There was also, he discovered, a _huge_ urban underworld full of not only werewolves but almost every other supernatural creature you could think of out of fairytales or young adult television shows*.  (*Recorded in these media with varying degrees of accuracy.)

He’d have thought the country was the place to be, but perhaps cities were more anonymous.  And so perhaps it was only natural he’d headed for London.

His English hadn’t been good enough at first to get him front-of-house work, but he’d found work as a chef, which he would have preferred anyway except…

Except for the werewolf days. 

Which, he supposed Arthur had been thinking, would be a positive _advantage_ in the kind of night-time protection work this friend of his seemed to need. 

Toris had never been so much as a bouncer, but… He’d give it a go.  At any rate he’d go along and meet the guy. 

-

Arthur left him at the door.  He _left Toris,_ having climbed up the stairs and reached the first floor flat, standing in front of a plain white painted door.  He rung the doorbell and ran away like a schoolboy playing a prank.

“I thought you were going to introduce—”

“Bye!”

Arthur jogged off down the stairs.

Toris turned, panicked, back to the door.  Arthur had said he knew this guy Alfred, he was some sort of removed cousin, recently graduated from LSE, so he wasn’t a complete weirdo.  Arthur could be eccentric, and he’d said Alfred _annoyed_ him, but…

The door opened.

“Hi!  You must be Toris!”

Alfred Jones was tall and athletic, wearing a very worn looking grey t-shirt and looking slightly flushed like he’d been exercising just that minute, except that everywhere smelt of paint, so it was probably decorating. 

“Um, hi.  Yes, I am Toris.  Alfred?”

“Yup!  Ah…”  Alfred checked his hand for paint then held it out for Toris to shake.

All that business about a firm, warm, dry handshake… Combined with a pair of frank blue eyes smiling behind rather old fashioned glasses with rims on three sides that nevertheless suited him… it really was something.  Arthur had said Alfred had studied in London, but he still sounded to Toris like the archetypal American dreamboat from a 1950s movie or something.

“Come on in!,” said the American dream.  “Sorry about the ah… I’ve been meaning to paint the second bedroom since forever!  Can I get you anything, cup of coffee?”

“Coffee would be great, thank you.”

(So far so good.  Certainly better than his first meeting with Arthur, come to that.  They’d met on Monstr (rebranded from Undergroundr after the Grindr people had sued – so apparently corporate law knew about supernatural dating apps now), soon after Toris had arrived in the UK.

“Cup of tea?” Arthur had asked when Toris met him at his secondhand book shop in the hour-long window between their shifts.  “What kind would you like – or, God, do you drink tea in Poland or….”

“Yes,” said Toris brightly, “we get the shipments since Stalin has died. … I am Lithuanian actually, and coffee please, if you have it.”

It was terribly rude of him, but he found it a good cheap test.  If they ran a mile at that point, to hell with the friendship.

Arthur had calmed down pretty soon.  He’d listed his interests as: brewing (advanced), reading, antiques, casting (intermediate), and they’d mostly talked about books and history after that.

They’d decided pretty soon on just-friends, but that was alright.  Arthur was a good enough friend, and a modest enough potion brewer that he didn’t try to interfere in Toris’ life troubles with magic either.  Not after the first attempt.)

Alfred pushed a pile of takeaway boxes across the kitchen table and gestured Toris to a chair.  “Ahhhh sorry again about the mess, wow, I’ve been painting that room and not even cleaning up my kitchen…”

“It’s alright,” Toris said meekly, accepting the coffee, which came from one of those fancy pod machines that he thought must be terribly wasteful in terms of pod packaging but had slightly coveted nonetheless. It tasted very good.

“So uh, I thought we could have coffee, talk a bit, get to know each other, I’ll show you around here, tell you about the job – well, it’s not really a job – I mean, it _is_ a job, part-time, I’ll definitely _pay_ you.  I don’t have a contract all drawn up or anything, I was thinking we could talk about hours and such, what would be good for you, if you want to fit around other work, all that.”

Something about the way he talked reminded Toris, just a little, of his Polish friend Feliks.  That put him at his ease a bit.

“That sounds good,” he said.  “Arthur hasn’t told me that much about.. the job, or anything.”

“Well, Arthur basically told _me_ I had to have some kind of, ah, _security_ _detail_ , like, someone watching my back, and that you’d be perfect.  So do you…” Toris felt those blue eyes looking him up and down.  “Do you do martial arts or something like that?”

 _You don’t look very brawny_.  The thought hung in the air.

Did he not _know?_   Had Arthur not told him Toris was perfect for the job _specifically because of being a werewolf_? Did Alfred know about Arthur, even?  Was he just an ordinary human??  _Shit!!_

“I have done martial arts, actually, yes,” – _when I was a teenager_.  He could see this wasn’t going to fly, he wasn’t instilling confidence.  But he _wanted_ this job, whatever it was.  “But—if the security position isn’t available, I could work as…” he looked around at the bombsite kitchen “….a cook?” he hedged, charitably ascribing the mess to things moved out of whatever room Alfred was painting, however unlikely that was.

 _Idiot!_ Toris yelled at himself inside his head. _You can’t just solicit random strangers as a private chef! Who could afford that!?_

 _Well, if anyone, possibly this American with the rich family, this guy who’s living near central London straight out of university_ , he answered himself.

Alfred’s eyes had lit up.

“You’re a cook?  I love food!”

“I’ve worked in restaurants,” Toris explained, “and someday I’d like to start my own business.  I can do, you know, the usual British things – maybe American? – Lithuanian food, and, uh, pizza – lots of bread type of food.  I was getting interested in Vietnamese too.  Whatever, really.”  Why was he telling this man his life story?

“Awww man, that’s tempting,” said Alfred.  “I’d love a cook – and real pizza! you can probably see I’m living on Dominoes – but Artie’s right, I could kinda do with someone watching my back on jobs.  That’s all I mean, I don’t _intend_ to get into fights or anything unless…”

“I could do both,” Toris put in, desperately.  “Like a… job share.  I could make food, and then at night or whenever…” _Oh dear_ , he thought, _when would I do this?  What if he wants three cooked meals a day, and to be followed around on an eight hour stake-out at night or something??  I could cook and freeze ahead, he’s American, he must have a big freezer…_ “At night, do the security work then,” he said firmly.

“Well—I would love that, Toris.  It’s still only meant to be part-time, but we can figure out details—maybe you work whatever kind of work for a certain amount of hours and after that I’ll have to fend for myself. You seem like the kind of guy who could take on too much without complaining so I won’t let you do that.  There’s a spare room you could have—”

“I’d live here?”

“Only if you wanna!  I’d still pay you on top of that, obviously; it’d be a bit like you’re an _au pair_ – ha, it really would if you’re going to be cooking for me.  Maybe you could even teach me a bit of Lithuanian!”  He was grinning, but not like it was a complete joke.

 _Two for two,_ Toris thought, _coffee and paying attention to what country I’m actually from._   Not to mention living rent-free.

“I might have to give a bit of notice on my current place,” Toris said carefully, already thinking that he could probably put up a message on Facebook and sublet pretty soon, thus allowing him to burn his bridges without really burning them, move straight in here but have an escape in case nice Alfred was actually some horror story intent on forcing him into domestic servitude forever…  It would make _sense_ to live here, almost whatever the pay was, as compared to commuting in every day from his current flat…

“Oh, sure!  Move in just as soon as you like as far as I’m concerned – well, you might wanna wait a couple of days til the paint is dry.”

Alfred was painting _his_ – the other – bedroom?

“You didn’t need to paint—”

“Already started, dude.  Of course if you want to paint it something else when you move in that’s fine!  I’m just giving it a fresh coat of white, you know.”

“O-oh, I see,” said Toris, bewildered.

“Well, that’s not the main thing.  Paint, what am I talking about?” Alfred laughed.  “What I mean to say is, are you interested?  In the job?”

“YES,” said Toris forcefully.  _You thought I wasn’t?_

“Great!” Alfred’s face lit up again.  “Well let me tell you what I think I need here…”

-

The first week, Toris cooked almost constantly and filled the freezer with leftovers and things for later, all carefully labelled.  He felt so odd _not_ doing anything else, like he just sitting around someone else’s home, whatever Alfred said about him being only part-time.  Without paying for rent, he reckoned he didn’t really need another job, though he probably should keep looking, because this wasn’t permanent, was it?  He loved his new _room_.  It was clean and bright with the fresh white paint and the sun through the window first thing in the morning.  Alfred had keys cut for him and he wandered around getting accustomed to the new neighbourhood while he supplemented the food shop.  

He saved pictures from recipe blogs and asked Alfred what he would prefer, but Alfred seemed happy with almost anything he cooked, and not just _happy_ but warmly grateful and excited to try it.  Alfred had had a rather… unevenly… stocked kitchen and Toris eventually got up the courage to ask if they could do one big online shop to get things up to base level.  Alfred agreed instantly.  Probably more tins and frozen vegetables and fish than they’d actually ever need, but Toris liked to feel secure, and it wasn’t like Alfred’s kitchen was tiny and short of cupboard space like his old place.

He learnt things about his new employer as well.  Alfred was only a “paranormal investigator”, whatever that entailed, by night and in odd hours.  During the working week he was a researcher for a media group, specialising in economic affairs.  He’d studied maths at undergraduate level and then gone on to do an MSc in something called _Applicable_ Mathematics.  He’d done this because it was supposed to make you more employable, he said, and he looked slightly rueful.  It apparently _had_ made him plenty employable, but Toris thought that with his charisma and his confidence that would never have been a problem for him.  Maybe he’d really wanted to focus on something more theoretical and out-there.  Outside his work, he loved science in general, space in particular, food, and all kinds of animals.  There’d even been one awkward conversation about how great _wolves_ were, and how much he’d love to get a dog, if only it fit with his hours…

Alfred must have learnt a good deal about him, Toris, as well, because he was always asking questions.  Toris was suffering a double culture shock.  Having just about adjusted to the Londoners asking “alright?” with enough frequency to begin to make him really question himself; (“Alright; you?” he learned to answer automatically, but the inner doubts only increased, “Am I??  I must not look alright!!”)…  Having just adjusted to that, he now had to deal with this guy who asked, “So how was your day?” and gave full-on eye contact and listening noises until he got a decent answer.  It was quite unsettling.  Oh sure, Alfred sometimes launched straight into a dramatic monologue about _his_ working day first, but he always asked afterwards, and paid attention to the answers.

Alfred could be loud and boisterous; he didn’t seem to be able to walk around quietly for instance, and his approach to keeping the house clean was obviously well-meaning but sporadic.  Still, Toris already found him one of the easiest people to live with he’d ever known.  Perhaps because he’d been encouraged to think of the kitchen as his territory, or perhaps just because of Alfred in some indefinable way, Toris felt comfortable sitting in the adjoining living area, reading a book or on his computer in the evenings, rather than keeping to his room.

The cooking and the housework made up the majority of his work.  It wasn’t until a week and half in that Alfred announced he had a night time “job”.  Keyed-up with nervous energy, Toris walked beside Alfred as he walked around a few blocks, checking house numbers and taking the occasional photo.  And that was it.  The week after, Toris sat in a late-night café watching Alfred who sat in a car-club car watching a house.  If anything suspicious happened, his job at this point was simply to jump out and make a ruckus, or call the police if it came to that.  Nothing suspicious did happen.  It was, if anything, rather boring.  He wondered what “case” Alfred was on, but didn’t like to pry.  Paranormal investigation.  The thing was, he could see just how easy it was for people/creatures like him to fall into a life of crime; it was simply hard to keep a regular job, and not everyone had lucked out like he had.  They went home and Toris got some overnight oats ready for the next morning, and went to sleep.

One afternoon in the third week, with the full freezer groaning and warning him not to cook anything more extra, and absolutely nothing else to do but watch TV or read a book, Toris opened his laptop and notebook and just… _had a look_ at his old pipe dream plans for his catering company.  It couldn’t hurt just to think about it a bit, even if it was never going to happen.

All in all, this new life was better than he could have anticipated.  But full moon was approaching, and he didn’t know what he was going to do about that.

\--

Full moon came and he still didn’t have a plan.  Beyond sitting it out in his room and pretending to be sick.  Which was _lying_ , technically, although he did also feel pretty lousy as he generally did Before.

After sitting awake half the night he’d snuck out early and made breakfast, left a note saying he was terribly sick and contagious and not to come near him…

…but of course he hadn’t reckoned on Alfred’s aggressive helpfulness.  The man wasn’t Arthur—though it seemed even Arthur wasn’t as conveniently unhelpful as he’d previously thought.

Alfred stood outside his closed door offering him cough syrup, Lucozade, chicken soup (did they have that?), Tylenol (whatever that was), meat…

_…Meat?_

“—if that’d be helpful?  Is that what you… oh, sorry, is that vampires—”

_Wait, what?_

Toris leapt out of bed, clad only in pyjama bottoms and pulled the door open.

 “YOU KNOW I’M A WEREWOLF?”

“Oh, well, yeah, obviously!  I just never met one before so I’ve been trying to research what I can do to help when—”

“You _knew_?!  Arthur told you?”

“Yeah, of course!”  Alfred scratched his head.  “Ohhhh, boy.  And you thought…”

“Why didn’t you _say_ something before?”  Later on, Toris would probably feel very embarrassed for yelling at his employer while shirtless, but just then…

“Aw, I dunno, I didn’t wanna be… you know, culturally insensitive or whatever…”

What strange American politeness!  After all the continual questions and inquisitiveness, apparently this was off-limits?

“Culturally…” Toris started then shook his head.  “Okay, well… now you know.  Now I know you know.  That’s a relief I guess.”

“Dude, I’m sorry.  Uh… I have to say you don’t _look_ very…”

“Not til later.  But…”

Toris bared his teeth in a grin.

“I can just about get away with daytimes, if I mumble all day, and I did go to work like this, but…”

Alfred leapt forward and stared wide-eyed at Toris’ mouth.  _“Wow_!  How do they _do_ that?  Conservation of matter _alone_ —”

Toris couldn’t stay mad.  He smiled and shook his head.  “Okay you think _that’s_ impressive, a couple of canine teeth?” 

He concentrated.

He’d never had someone yell delightedly and _applaud_ him transforming into a wolf before. 

-

Arthur visited a week after that.

He glanced furtively behind Toris into the house.  “Is Alfred in?”

“Oh, no, he’s out all day I’m afraid, did you want to see him?”

“No.  Toris, is everything alright?”

Toris blinked.  Arthur was… checking up on him?  They’d been in contact via messages but apparently that hadn’t been enough to satisfy this new conscientiousness.

“Everything is very alright,” he said, puzzled. 

“I just thought… Alfred, and you living here, it’s a bit irregular and I love the guy and everything, but he’s not the most… responsible person… And you just had your first full moon, so…”

Toris was beginning to realise that a slight blindspot for household mess at times wasn’t the same as true irresponsibility, but he just said, “He’s _fine_.  And, I’ve got a contract for working, he’s very keen that I don’t take on too much even.  There is one thing though.”

“Yes?”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL HIM I WAS A WEREWOLF.”

Arthur blinked.  “I did.  He’s investigating all this paranormal stuff, he knows all about us.”

_Oh yeah._

“Ack, sorry,” Toris said.  “Yeah, I forgot, it wasn’t you.”

“Wait—” Arthur held up a hand.  “What happened?  Did Alfred _forget_ all about it or something? 

“No, but he didn’t _tell_ me he knew, so all month I was having to pretend to be normal, and then when it was full moon I was _living_ here and—”

“And you hadn’t told him?”

“Of course _I_ didn’t tell him – as far as I knew he was just an ordinary human who didn’t know anything about anything.”

“No, no, you’re right, of course, you wouldn’t.  It was his responsibility to bring it up!  Stupid boy.” Arthur ran a hand distractedly through his sandy hair, making it stick up on end.  “See, I knew something like this would happen!  Why did I ever think— …why are you smiling like that?”

“It’s okay,” said Toris, almost laughing now.  “You don’t need to worry.  It’s all fine now—it was a silly misunderstanding but obviously it all came out at the full moon and now it’s… more funny than anything.  I just lay around the house – even on the sofa! – when it’s werewolf time, and last thing at night we go for a walk around the park.”

“You let him take you for _walks_ like a dog??”

Toris shrugged.  “Sure, why not?  I attract a lot less attention than if I was by myself.”

“Well, whatever you’re into…” Arthur seemed distracted by something.  “Do you wear a collar and leash or what…?”

“ _No_ , Arthur.”

“Oh, right, yeah, sorry.  Sorry I asked.”

Toris sighed and changed the subject.  “I don’t even think I’ve thanked you properly.”

“For what?”

“For—this.  Alfred.  For _everything._ ”

Arthur grunted.  “Happy to help.”

“Thank you.  And, it’s really nice of you—” (nice, and interfering) “—to be so worried about me but honestly… I’ve never been so happy.”  There was a pause.  “What am I doing keeping you standing out here? Do you want to come in for… coffee?  I’m not sure we have tea.”

-

“Sounds like you got a Project,” Feliks said, the next month when they skyped.

“He is not a project!”

“You’re cleaning up his life and teaching him to cook! I always said you needed a project.”

“He is not a project!!”

“ _Oh_ , then what _is_ he…?

-  
  
What was Alfred?  Sort of technically his boss, although more technically and for tax purposes Toris was self-employed.  
  
A friend? 

Certainly, though they’d hardly known each other any time….

 _You’re living in his house_.

A housemate! 

That didn’t actually clarify the relationship, just the situation.

They watched movies and endless American TV (Alfred liked TV shows featuring the supernatural and beautiful people too, and horror films– or at least, he always wanted to watch them, even if he seemed to regret it later…).  They went running together a couple days a week now, not counting the long walks in the park with Toris in canine form, wearing a luminous yellow jacket, and Alfred telling interested passers-by he was all kinds of made-up shepherd dog breeds.  They talked, a _lot_.  Long, freewheeling conversations late into the night after a “job” sometimes, with or without alcohol.  Toris could feel his English improving in fluid leaps and bounds, though he wondered what sort of accent he’d end up with.  It didn’t seem possible that barely a year ago he had been speaking little more than the barest “chef’s English”, sprinkled with Arabic and swear words from a variety of languages.  He in fact had been teaching Alfred Lithuanian, just a few words. 

Alfred seemed to have an incredibly busy life but he didn’t seem quite comfortable with letting Toris cook for him—even though it was literally his job—and instead of relaxing in front of the TV or one of his games consoles after his day’s work, he kept jogging into the kitchen and asking if there was anything he could do to help.  And so, yes, Toris had been slightly accidentally teaching him to cook.  Mostly they got groceries delivered, but a few times they’d gone grocery shopping together, or Alfred had suggested the Saturday morning market and he’d let Toris pick out the all freshest most exciting and sometimes most expensive foodstuffs, and tried not to let Toris carry a single bag home himself… 

He knew about the werewolf thing and accepted it.  He’d even asked, _You know, Arthur’s, like, a wizard, maybe he could_ … and Toris had found himself telling him the truth: that Arthur had tried, with his ideas and his potions, and it had sort of worked, but it wasn’t worth the side effects, wasn’t worth a week in the month when he could hardly drag himself out of bed.  The experience had made Toris feel low and weak, but Alfred looked at him with hardly any pity, and said he was brave.

Alfred was kind and fun and funny and really _really_ sort of genius smart, in this unexpected way, even when he talked about economics and especially when he talked about space…

Not to mention extremely handsome. 

 _And yet you mention it_.  Toris frowned inwardly.

Alfred insisted on giving Toris “time off”, even though it _was_ more like they were housemates than employer and employee, even though he would have let Toris have _any_ day off if he needed it, he insisted some days Toris do no work at all.  Sometimes he went out and wandered around dutifully.  Sometimes he met up with Arthur.  Sometimes they went out as a group together.  He could see-people-as-in- _see_ -people, if he’d wanted.  He had time now and not ever-unsociable restaurant hours. But he hadn’t even opened Monstr in months.  He’d been losing interest and motivation before anyway, but now he knew.  The one person he was interested in would definitely not be on the supernatural dating app.

 _You don’t even know if he’s gay or not_ , Toris said to himself.  Alfred’s facebook page had been disappointingly unrevealing.

 _That shouldn’t even be relevant!!_ himself said to Toris, louder.  _Although.  I’m pretty sure he is._

_ How _ _sure?  How much are you willing to risk on that surety?_

_Well, nothing ventured…_

If this was one of the supernatural YA novels that he admittedly had read, for a giggle or for curiosity or because they were addictive darnit, then the assertive part of him, the impulsive part he held in check, the part that had to be stopped from staring when Alfred came down to breakfast with his hair all wet from the shower, the part that apparently controlled his _dreams_ fairly often these days… that part would be termed ~the wolf in him~ or some such.

But it wasn’t.  Any more than it was ~the chef in him~ or ~the Lithuanian in him~ or even ~the still fuzzily Catholic in him~ that told him to be cautious. 

More than that, it was largely _because_ of the whole wolf thing that he _was_ so cautious, quiet and well-behaved.  He was like that, at least partly, because he was afraid, afraid of being caught out, on edge the whole time.

And now that Alfred knew about and _was okay with_ the fact that he grew hairy and teethy once a month, it was like the habitual fear and paranoia had transferred onto something else, but kept gnawing away inside, underneath the nearly perfect happiness that was his life.  ( _He might be alright with me being a werewolf but a gay werewolf who fancies him living in his house?)_

He’d been thinking about all this a lot lately, how he’d wound up limiting himself like this.  It made him sad to realise that he definitely wasn’t somehow everything he could be – but it also felt a bit like opening the window in a stifling room.  Realising this had to be the first step to changing it.

But how? 

-

It wasn’t even on a _job_ that it happened, that was the thing.  Alfred and Toris were just on a nightly walk in the park.  The park wasn’t busy at this time, and this part wasn’t in view of the main road, so maybe it wasn’t especially safe to walk, but that was normally offset by the fact that Alfred was walking a large _wolf_.  A canine companion like that was more than enough to scare off normal, human muggers.

That was definitely not what these two were.  Even if they were human they weren’t ordinary.  They must have been looking for Alfred.

It was like they hadn’t seen Toris, luminous jacket notwithstanding.  He was ten yards away, sniffing under a tree, when the attack came.

Toris’ sixth sense prickled and set his hackles on end just at the same moment as Alfred yelled and—

The couple seconds to close the distance between them seemed like an eternity.

Muscles tensing, Toris leapt.  He caught one man in the shoulder, knocking him sprawling.  They seemed like ordinary humans, not some terrifying demons or—

There was a flash of metal.  The other man had a knife.

He slashed and Alfred staggered back, hands flying to his face, but by then Toris had grabbed the man’s arm and sunk his teeth in.  The knife fell to the ground.

He’d never done such a thing before.  He’d hardly even been in fights as a human outside of class.  He didn’t think about it.  There was instinct for this sort of thing, it seemed.  The man was yelling and screaming but he hardly heard it.  He shook his head back and forth a few times.  The first man was getting up now.  Toris let go, jumped back a foot so he stood over the place where the knife was, teeth bared, growling as ferociously as he never knew he knew how.

Alfred, blood trickling down his face, walked up and picked up the knife.

The men ran. 

And then Toris felt a rush of unknown terror for the second time in the last few minutes, as his nose quivered and he picked up the scent behind him, coming closer at speed.

It wasn’t that they hadn’t accounted for him.  They had been quite, quite prepared.

_They had another werewolf._

_Run!_ he wanted to yell to Alfred but he couldn’t, but Alfred seemed to have got the idea.  But he was torn, standing still.  “TORIS!”

The two wolves collided in mid-air and crashed to the grassy ground, rolling and pawing, trying to bite at each other’s necks.

Of all things, the luminous yellow jacket was providing some protection against scrabbling claws. 

Suddenly Alfred was there, kicking at them.  He’d dropped the knife somewhere but he had his rucksack in his hand.

Toris was terrified- he had to get the other wolf away from him.

More by luck than anything else a blow from the rucksack caught the other wolf across the snout.  In that moment of confusion Toris lunged for the neck again.  He felt Alfred follow it up with another kick to the wolf’s head which seemed to temporarily stun him.

Toris let go and looked at Alfred trying desperately to communicate one word.

_Run._

Alfred took off and Toris streaked after him.  Trying to make it to the other side of the park, by the road, where they might be seen.  They didn’t dare look back to see if they had been followed.  Not yet. 

They made it to the road.  No guttural snarls followed them.

“I wish…” Alfred panted, “they had those jump-on jump-off buses here…”

It was such an absurd thing to say, but it gave Toris an idea.  They could make it back to Alfred’s only by returning through the un-overlooked park, whereas—

He nudged Alfred in the knees as they reached it and they jogged down into the subway.  Alfred seemed to have the same idea. 

More people.  People who were casting worried looks towards a really large… dog(?) with a torn luminous vest and man holding blood-soaked t-shirt to his forehead, but nonetheless.  It occurred to Toris in a moment of light-headed hilarity that _here_ was the solution he’d needed to all his commuting cost woes; dogs didn’t need Oyster cards. 

It wasn’t many stops to the end of Arthur’s road. 

By the time they climbed the stairs up, though, Alfred was rocking on his feet.  At the top he stumbled, nearly falling.  This was no good.  Toris grabbed the ankle of his trousers in his mouth and tugged him behind a billboard, which Alfred leaned on gratefully.  This was going to be potentially very awkward, but they didn’t have much choice.

Toris took a deep breath, and changed back to a human.  He was completely naked except for the remains of the luminous dog jacket.

“Toris—”

“Yes I know.  You can lean on me better this way.  We’re nearly at Arthur’s.  Quick, give me the—”

Alfred handed over his rucksack and Toris pulled out the emergency scrubs trousers they kept in there.  Never thinking they’d use them in these circumstances.  Alfred gave him the t-shirt he’d be using on his head too, replacing it with the dog jacket; it was already ruined so blood wouldn’t make much difference. 

“Come on.”

Toris got his arm round him and they struggled down the road.

-

_Bzzt!_

_Bzzzzzzzzzt!_

“Alright alright I’m coming!” came Arthur’s irritable voice with a thumping down the stairs.  The intercom had been broken for ages and Arthur had never gotten around to getting it fixed.

“Yes?” he said, opening the door a crack.  “Oh, it’s you!”  He opened the door the rest of way.  He was wearing a red velvety dressing gown and a shocked expression.

“Sorry, did we wake you—” said Toris, politeness absurdly getting the upper hand.

“No, this is what I’ve been wearing all day like Sherlock H—”  At which point Arthur seemed to suddenly take in the situation.  “What happened?!”

“He’s hurt.”

“ _You’re_ hurt,” said Arthur in horror, staring at the bloody t-shirt.  “And you’re— _human_.  Get in here!!”

The other two supported Alfred up the stairs and into Arthur’s flat.  It seemed to Arthur that Toris was blurring slightly at the edges.

The moment the flat door shut behind them Toris collapsed back into a wolf.

Alfred sat down and was soon protesting that he _alright_ he was _fine,_ just a bit bleedy! 

Arthur ignored him.

Much to Toris’ relief, Arthur dealt with cleaning Alfred up and applying a compress bandage to his forehead very quickly and professionally. 

Also somewhat to his relief, he did this all using traditional, human, first aid.  He kept looking worriedly at Toris though, who was sprawled on his side, panting, then he disappeared into the kitchen and came back a few minutes later with two teas, one of them in a cereal bowl and diluted with cold water. 

“C’mon Toris, drink up.”

Toris felt so exhausted he could barely move, but he tried, rolling over onto his front and lapping the tea up that way.  It tasted like liquorice. 

“Not like that, you’ll spill it…”

Toris growled.

“Okay, suit yourself.” Arthur put his hands up.  Then he turned back to Alfred. “I don’t want you to think I’m prying in your business, and I don’t believe in giving in to bullies either, _but_.  This could have been so much worse.  Maybe you – you two – shouldn’t get involved at this… level of risk.  At least, not without backup.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be this dangerous,” Alfred said, unusually serious.  “Tonight was just a _walk_.  I think it was a warning.”  He glanced at Toris.  “If it wasn’t for Toris…  Thanks, Arthur.  I’ll—I’ll think about who else I can talk to.”

Arthur nodded.  “I might know some folks.  We’ll talk about it in the morning, alright?”

Alfred looked at the clock.  “I guess we’d better head soon…”

“No, don’t be stupid,” Arthur said, “you’re staying here.  Sofa.  Futon.  Anyway, that drink’ll knock you out too bad for travelling in about half an hour anyway.  Switch the fire off before you fall asleep.  Night, chaps.”

He came back to dump down a pile of blankets and comfortable clothes, then headed off to his own room.

Alfred looked at his mug of tea.  “ _That’s_ what this stuff is,” he said woozily.  “‘S good stuff, I feel better already.”

Now they were alone again.  The electric fire glowed pleasantly in the hearth.

“Shall I switch off the light?” Alfred asked. 

Toris made a noise which he hoped would translate as assent.  He wanted very much to change back, to talk to Alfred, but he felt like the effort would kill him after earlier.

“Do you want the sofa?  I know you like sofas.”  Alfred was still talking to him, in that way he did when he was in this shape, almost the same as if he was human but with just a touch of that assumed affection you use for animals.  

Toris whined. 

“Yeah, you can have the sofa,” Alfred said.  He switched off the light, pulled on one of Arthur’s old shirts, and stretched out as best he could on the futon.

“Hey, Toris…”

_Yes…?_

“Ah… nothing.  Get some sleep, you deserve it.”

\--

It must have been about 5am.  Dawn enough for Toris to be his human self again.  He slid straight into wakefulness without realising what was happening.  He looked around.  Arthur’s house.  Now where was…

He wrapped a blanket around himself and padded over to the pile of clothes, put on a shirt and jogging shorts, and lay down on the sofa again.

“Golly gee,” Alfred groaned, waking up too. Toris loved it when he was excessively American like that.  He hadn’t realised he was awake.  “It’s like a sauna in here.”

Alfred crawled off his futon, blankets trailing, and flicked off the electric fire.

Toris sat up on his sofa.

“So you’re back, dude.  Hey… What is it?” Alfred asked, concerned.

Toris swallowed, his eyes flicking back and forth over Alfred’s face, his dear dear face; the rest of him, in a scrappy old band t-shirt of Arthur’s and boxers, no glasses, soft messy hair.  His heart squeezed and bunched in his chest.  Everything he hadn’t said last night or before.

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” he managed to say at last.  “I thought for a moment, I thought I could lose you.”

“Toris… Hey, no need to be all dramatic, you’re not getting rid of me that easy. Well, unless you wanna… if you’re sick of hanging around me and I wouldn’t blame you after last night…” Alfred was babbling.  Toris loved him more than ever.

“I was supposed to protect you.”

Alfred shook his head.  “No.  No, I wasn’t supposed to get into that kind of situation, I would _never_ have got you involved in something like that if I knew—is that what you’re worried about?”

“Mmm,” Toris said noncommittally.  One of the things he was worried about.  He hardly trusted himself to open his mouth.

Alfred, an anxious expression on his face, walked over to Toris’ sofa.  “Hey.  Budge up.”  He sat down next to Toris.  Toris couldn’t meet his eyes.  “Hey…”

Alfred gently took his hand.

 _That_ was a moment.  A quiet moment.  Neither of them seemed to breathe.

Toris turned and looked at him

“…fu--…” Alfred breathed, and blinked rapidly.

Their hands were still touching.

Before the constriction in his throat became absolute, Toris breathed in—

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

And Alfred was looking at him again – like he’s been sucker-punched, like good news but like it blanked everything from his face– like he’s about to cry

\--not like he was laughing in the slightest— 

“ _Oh_ yeah,” he whispered, his face breaking into a beaming smile.

They leaned across their joined hands on the sofa.  Their lips met.  Again.  Soft, and warm.

Alfred sighed against Toris’ chin and then pressed in to kiss him more deeply.

Toris pulled away. “Ahh—careful—”

“Toris?”

“Shh, I’m fine,” Toris reassured him, smiling, giddy, “just – pointy teeth week, remember?”

“Ohh!”  Alfred laughed.  “Mm let’s see… Oh yeah!  Okay well there’s other stuff we can do…”

He shifted his sitting position, tilted his head and placed three, four kisses along Toris’ jawline.

Toris breathed.  “Oh—that’s nice.”

“I wanted to do this for so long,” Alfred whispered, “but I thought what kind of employer/employee malpractise…?”

“I’m self-employed…”

“Nuh-uh; even so.”

“Mmm.  Thank you for being considerate, yeah, but also… screw you for not saying something!  Uh… d’you… would it be easier if I just take off my shirt, or—”

Alfred popped his head back out from under Toris’ t-shirt and grinned.  “Yeah, that’d help!  Hey…”

“Mm, what?”

“Let’s hope Arthur’s not an early riser…”

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive me, I’ve tried to do the sketchiest outline of a werewolf mythos that you can make of what you will, but it’s very slight. They’re wolfy wolves, or perhaps conveniently mistakable for a large dog, at least in the dark. Probably more similar to Pratchett werewolves than anything else!
> 
> I could not think of a title… This’ll have to do; Toris reminding us all that he defines himself more as a chef than a werewolf after all!
> 
> WELL and it’s been too long since I wrote AmeLiet, so that was good :)


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